


Oblivious to the Obscurus

by RubyGirl35



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Abusive Parents, Abusive Past, Emotional Manipulation, Fluff, Looking to the future!, M/M, Past Rape/Non-con, Period-Typical Homophobia, Poor baby boy, Religious Guilt, WOO, possibly smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2019-04-23 00:09:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 34
Words: 18,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14320110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RubyGirl35/pseuds/RubyGirl35
Summary: Events post-film: Credence wakes up, cold and alone, but alive. His only rememberance is of a nice lady with short, dark hair, and of a mysterious man in a long grey coat...





	1. Waking up

When Credence had first seen Mr Percival Graves he was walking in the rain, slowly greying hair slicked back matching his similar coloured coat. His steps carried a confidence and light air which was seen in most of his position. But, something was definitely different about him. At least, to Credence, he stuck out like a sore thumb.  
There was something, he knew for sure, he just couldn't say exactly what it was. Something about his whole person, his whole demeanour. As previously mentioned, his stride held an elegance that could not be very easily matched by most, but there was even something small in that. Small, and hidden. Something valuable; some might even say magical.  
Also, he had a strange interest in scorpions? 

When Credence had first seen Ms Portpentina Goldstein she was storming through the church to get to him, dark hair disheveled matching her shocked and disgusted expression. Her steps carried a motherly nature about them which he never thought he would receive, before a blinding light hazed his vision and he awoke to his mother on the floor. At least there was no more belting for the night.   
There was something about her, too, something magical. Most probably wouldn't be able to tell, but, to Credence, it was obvious. There was something he desired in her, just like with Mr Graves, but he could only tell what it was he required from her, not him. He required her motherly instincts. A guiding hand that wouldn't snap. He wanted that more than anything.  
More than anything.

As he came to, he thought about this; his only two memories. The nice lady with short, dark hair, and the mysterious man in a long grey coat. 

Awakening in the shadows, the lights in the Underground flickered on and became his only real source of comfort, (for the time being, at least). He felt the pain almost immediately as he attempted to stand himself up, his body almost giving in on itself, but persevering all the same.   
As he took his first step, it was similar to that of a newborn, and he staggered backwards until he hit a brick wall. Unlike a newborn, Credence had to learn a lot faster, as the new source of light up ahead was that of an upcoming train. He jumped up and off of the tracks, panting as he lay down again. That's when he saw it.   
Blood oozed from his body, and as he coughed, even more was produced. Panic ensued as it increased further, and Credence was sure no body even had so much blood inside of it as of what was now staining the slate of the platform. 

He needed to get help, and fast. But, who would help him? He couldn't even help himself; who was he? If you can't remember your own name, how are you supposed to survive?   
Maybe that was what his memories were for. The lady and the man. Maybe, they were his salvation. 

Walking up the stairs to the street was difficult enough, even more so when he noticed how dark it was. There were small lights dotted about the paths, and they helped guide him, little by little. Still, he needed more than this.   
Pain urged him to clutch a hand onto his side, his footsteps now swaying and staggering to the side as he continued his journey. Why did the lights have to keep flickering? Every time he stood under one, it flickered, almost as though it were afraid of him. But then, what had he done wrong? What reason should a light have to be afraid of him? Because, if the elements were wary of him, how would the lady and the man react? 

Credence came to a halt, stopping in front of a small apartment building. His legs had buckled and given up, and although he didn't wish to himself, he had no other choice. He couldn't push his body much further; more blood would be spilled, and more pain would ensue.   
Hugging his legs to his chest, he took up what little warmth he could before his body felt cold and broken. The streetlight above him gave out, and he was left in a dark solitude. 

Darkness. A numb tingling sensation filled his body and everything went to blank. Credence swore, all though part of him told him that it was wrong to swear, that there was a road up ahead with it's own bright light. He was tempted to follow it, to see where it would take him, but a light from elsewhere brought him back.   
A small, tiny, flickering light shone in front of him as his eyes opened again, and it was produced from a tiny, carved twig. Holding the twig was an outstretched hand, and Credence followed it upwards; an arm, shoulder, neck, face. Around that face was dark hair that curved towards the bottom and framed its structure perfectly. The eyes of the face were soft and tender; some might say, motherly. 

The kindness of this face, and moreover, of the owner, was his salvation.


	2. The Lady

"Oh, Credence!" 

Porpentina Goldstein stood before a wounded, weak Credence, hand outstretched before him holding a bright source of light. Overwhelmed by the overall sight of him - both the blood, and his existence at all - she had no idea how to react. With a flick of her wrist towards the streetlight, the path was relit, and she quickly tucked her wand away, resting her hand against his cheek, which was a deathly pale shade underneath the crimson coloured blood. 

"You're alive. What happened?" 

Credence blinked slowly, still taking in the lady's features. Her voice was very gentle, but, in this moment, she seemed shocked, and somewhat worried. All in all, she was very motherly; he felt linked to her, and he wasn't sure as to why. It was almost too good to be true, having her care.   
Tina knelt down in front of him, resting a hand on his shoulder. Her worry had increased. 

"Credence?" 

"You're the nice lady, aren't you?" 

Listening to the sound of his own voice was unusual. It was a sound he'd never heard before, or rather, a sound of an old traveller or a ghost of his past. His tone was soft, yet he sounded shaky, and he was very quiet. The lady's voice was soft, too, but it didn't shy away as much as his own.   
Credence watched as her lips turned into a confused smile, and he began to question if he'd asked or done something wrong. 

"I'm Tina, remember? Ms Porpentina Goldstein." 

"Tina?" 

"Yes. But, you always called me Ms Goldstein." 

She laughed quietly and smiled pleasantly, but still could not refrain from frowning when she gained no real response or sign of him remembering. It was most likely a result of all the spells that were cast upon him, but still, he did show signs of knowing something. After all, he knew who she was. He called her the 'nice lady', so he must know something, right?  
Credence turned to look over her shoulder, urging her to do the same.

"Tina? Who's this?" 

Queenie Goldstein, Tina's sister, stood behind her, hugging herself tight to keep from the cold. Tina began to speak, but was soon interrupted by Queenie as she stepped over to help Credence. 

"Queenie-" 

"Oh, sweetheart. The poor thing; he's covered in blood. We've got to get him inside, quickly."


	3. The Lady's Sister

Tina and Queenie staggered, allowing Credence's frame to rest solely in theirs as they heaved him up to their apartment, one step at a time. They had to hurry so not to be caught; the owner and landlady of the building, Mrs Esposito despised having males in her building, (for some reason or other), and she would surely not like this. A man, if you could call him that - he was still so young and isolated from the world - leaning on two women.  
It wasn't exactly the most innocent look. In the steps he was taking, due to his serious and unexplainable injuries, he appeared drunk even. Definitely not a good look, indeed. 

Cautiously, Tina shushed Queenie's quiet gasp of effort as they stepped inside their apartment, quickly closing the door shut behind them and locking the clasp up tight. No risks could be taken, and they had to hurry to find the source of the bleeding before he had nothing left to lose. 

"Queenie, clear the table." 

Quickly, she did just that, and they helped Credence up so that he was sitting on the edge of the table. Next step; take of Credence's clothes, starting with the shirt. His torso was most likely the source of the blood, but Tina was hesitant to search there. She knew, even if he had forgotten, how many scars he had lying underneath. They, most likely, were a very touchy subject, and she didn't want to violate his privacy. The poor boy had been through so much already, and now this. 

"Credence, sweetheart, do you mind if I remove this?" 

Credence shook his head as she gestured to his shirt, and she undid the buttons as quick as her hesitation would allow her.  
To her surprise, as well as Queenie's, there was no clear sign of blood coming from anywhere. They checked all over his torso, and back, and saw nothing. Not even his old scars. It was as though he'd been rebirthed, and he'd appeared as good as new.  
Queenie and Tina looked to each other, both as confused as the other, wondering if he was even bleeding at all anymore. 

"Maybe it's just on his clothes? Either way, we should get them washed for him. I'm sure we'll have something that can fit him." 

Nodding, Tina looked back to Credence with a reassuring smile, before heading into their bedroom, searching for some good fitting clothes. Queenie looked to him, a soft smile on her lips, and Credence felt linked again somehow.  
She was very pretty and just as motherly as Tina, if not a little less. Her hair was different; blonde and curled, but it was short too. Makeup was different too, but it made her soft, pleasant features bolder. Pressing a hand against his cheek, she winced at how cold he was to the touch. 

"Oh, sweetie. You're so pale. Let's get some food on those bones, hm?" 

With a wave of her wand, and a few short steps to the cooker, she began on making dinner. Turning her head, she smiled back at Credence. 

"Pie, or strudel, honey?" 

"I... I'm not sure." 

"That's alright. I'll make us some pie." 

Winking softly, she turned back to the stove, and within minutes, a beautiful apple pie lay on the table, plates and cutlery all set. Credence beamed, admiring the smell and overall aesthetic, and knew that he would never be so positively overwhelmed in all his new life.  
As he approached the table, Queenie stopped him. Tina walked over with a small bundle of clothes laying in her arms, handing them over to Credence. She pointed him in the direction of the bathroom. 

"You got to get dressed first, sweetheart. Go in there and we'll wait for you, okay?"


	4. Apple Pie

Credence smiled as he relished in the taste of his first ever bite of apple pie. It tasted like summer, somehow. The pastry, which had been topped with sugar, added sweetness and combated the sharp, tart flavour of the cooked apples. Everything felt warm and homely, and he began to wonder where his home was.   
But still, the delight of the moment brought him away from any possible worry or sadness. He noted the pleasant, happy smiles on both of his savours, and was very thankful for the meal and their wonderful treatment. 

"How do you like it, honey?" 

"It's delicious, ma'am. Thank you." 

Queenie nodded, and conversation soon turned to finding out what had really happened to Credence, and where they could go from here. He needed a proper home and life, that was for sure; they couldn't keep sneaking around Mrs Esposito all of the time, and the boy needed a male figure, too. All of his previous female figures weren't exactly anything exceptional, to say the least.   
Tina began the conversing herself, after being content with an almost full stomach. 

"Credence, sweetheart, what happened?" 

"I don't know, Mrs...?" 

"Goldstein. Do you not remember anything else?" 

Glancing down, Credence moved his spoon slowly about the plate, frowning. He couldn't disappoint them, not after all that they had done. But, he really didn't remember anything. Of why he woke up in the Underground, why he was bleeding; at first, he didn't even remember his own name, let alone the names of others who seemed to know him.   
All he had was the memory of her - Mrs Tina Goldstein - and the memory of a man in a long, grey coat. Maybe, at least, he could tell them that much. 

"I remember a man in a long coat. That's all." 

Tina pondered, and suddenly her expression lit up with enlightenment. 

"You must mean Newt. Mr Newt Scamander, do you remember him? He tried to help you. We both did, me and him. And, Queenie and Jacob. Jacob Kowalski, do you know him?" 

Credence's own look only deepened in sadness and a confusion others could not begin to comprehend. None of the names he recognised, so no progress had been made. He had to remember something else, but he just couldn't.   
He shook his head solemnly, shifting his gaze down to his hands which lay held together in his lap. 

"I'm sorry. I, I don't remember." 

"Oh, no, that's alright." 

Queenie put her hand in front of Tina, telling her that she would take it from here. 

"Honey, why don't you get some rest, hm? Maybe you'll remember some more in the morning. You can sleep in here; we'll make up a nice little bed for you. Would you like that?" 

Credence nodded. He really would like some rest. It had all been a very long day for him, (or so he felt), and a little bit of sleep would make everything feel a lot better.  
Soon, Queenie had made up the sofa into a comfortable little bed for Credence to stay the night in, and, placing a soft kiss on his cheek, she retired herself into her and Tina's shared bedroom.   
Tina herself walked over to Credence, kneeling down by his side. She smiled softly, running her hand lightly over his forehead. 

"It's okay. I'm not expecting you to remember everything of what happened so soon, I know it'll take some time. Tomorrow, I'll take you to my work, okay? See if they know of anything they can do to help you. You'll be okay, Credence. I'll make sure of it, this time." 

Placing a kiss on his forehead, she retired to bed also.   
Credence wasn't exactly sure what she had meant by 'this time', but he was too taken aback by her warmth and kindness to fret on it. He was also glad he wasn't being rushed to remember.   
Closing his eyes, and making sure that he was warm enough under the sheets, he fell soundly to sleep.


	5. The Man

"C'mon, Credence. This way." 

Tina gestured and made sure that he stayed close to her as they headed down the street towards MACUSA headquarters. Although it was nearing spring, he was thankful for the coat he had borrowed, even if it was a little too feminine on him. He turned his head to look around, but made sure that he never strayed from his saviour; he needed to make sure she knew how grateful he was. That he wasn't taking everything for granted. 

There were a lot of people bustling about on the cold pavement, most wearing the fanciest of clothing, and the entire scene seemed somewhat familiar to Credence. Like, something long and forgotten. He hoped that these would help stimulate his memories further, but for now they just remained a pleasant image.   
As they rounded another corner, his eyes caught on a decrepit church covered in warning signs and anti-leaflets; something forced him to look away. 

"We're almost there. In here." 

Tina pointed to golden doors of a tall building, and Credence headed in infront of her.   
Somehow, the inside was different in how it appeared on the outside. From the outside, it looked as though there were a bunch of people completing office work, but in actual fact something much more incredible was taking place.  
So many magical events tried to grab ahold of his attention at once, but his eyes seemed to focus on one small flying paper plane, which zipped around the room. He followed it until it led him to one thing. 

The man in the long, grey coat stood, his demeanour very serious and focused as he noticed Tina, and slowly began to approach them both.

"Percival. I'm so glad that you're back." 

"Thank you, Porpentina. I'm very glad to be back. Thought I was done for." 

His voice. Credence almost at once believed that it was the most wonderful sound he would ever hear, although he wasn't exactly sure as to why he felt that way. It was just smooth, silky, and had the hint of an accent hidden among it which seemed almost foreign.   
As he turned to look eyes with the young boy, Credence almost froze and suddenly found it a lot more difficult to speak. 

"Who's this?"

"This, sir? This is Credence Barebone. His mom was killed as a result of Grindelwald-" 

"Ah, that is unfortunate." 

"Yes, and I hoped that-" 

"You hoped that someone here could help find him a new home, correct?" 

"Yes, sir." 

The man looked quizzically at Credence, taking him in. He was about to say something, when an almost horrified glance came over his expression, and he quickly turned back to Tina. 

"He isn't a No-mag, is he?" 

"No, sir." 

Turning once to Credence, she pulled the man aside and discussed with him of Credence's magical abilities, and of all that had happened in regards to Grindelwald.   
Credence most likely would have been able to hear all of this, if he wasn't so focused on the man's striking features. His hair, all slicked back and grey, reassured him that he was definitely the man he could remember. His jawline was somewhat pleasant, and overall, all though he possessed an air of some superiority, he didn't seem at all arrogant because of it.   
In fact, he quite admired him already. 

The man and Tina turned back to Credence, and, after a few moments of standing in silence, he spoke confidently. 

"I'll take him in." 

Tina turned to face him, shocked. 

"Are you sure?" 

"Indeed." 

Offering his hand out to Credence, he put on a look of a friendly nature, even if he didn't show any sign of a smile on his lips. He gestured for him to shake it, as though he believed that he wouldn't know how. And, he didn't. Everything was so new, now. Although some things came naturally, some he had yet to learn.

"Hello, Credence. I'm Percival Graves." 

After shaking it, Percival pulled back his hands and smiled. It was a small smile, but still real, and perfectly beautiful. His lips shaped into a way that Credence had never seen, not on Tina or Queenie, and he felt somehow struck by the sight of it. 

"How would you like it if I took care of you from now on?" 

Gulping quietly, he built up enough courage to answer the question, fists balled at his sides in his attempt to speak a little louder and more confidently than he had before. 

"Yes, sir. I'd like that very much. Thank you."


	6. The Office

Credence watched as Mister Percival Graves rose from his large office chair, gathering up his paperwork into a carriable bundle. It didn't have to be neat or anything, just efficient.   
He'd been there for almost a full day, since he had been invited to live with him. It wasn't as though Percival could have just arrived at work and left straight after; important work still had to be done, even if most was just boring paperwork. So, Credence had spent the vast majority of the morning and afternoon sat in a small chair near the entrance of the room. 

It was surprisingly quite a large, open space for an office, and Credence assumed that he must be a very important worker. Possibly, one of the leaders.   
At lunchtime, he was happy at seeing how the door had opened, and Queenie entered with a tray of tea and light snacks. They had tasted delicious, (although not as good as Queenie's apple pie), but he was shocked to find that the tea was very hot.   
Now, as he found his gaze locked on another's, he felt the urge to stand up. 

"I have to hand in these documents first, Mr Barebone, and then we'll be heading home." 

Picking up his satchel in one hand, he carried his paperwork in the other, and stepped towards both the boy and the door. 

"Come, Credence." 

For some inexplainable reason, when Mister Graves had spoken those words it had startled him, and he felt a small, sharp twang in his chest.   
His voice did sound very familiar - especially in the way he pronounced his name - just like another ghost of his past. But then, there had to be some reason why he remembered him, so this wasn't exactly unusual. 

As they headed down, passing corridor after corridor, Credence found himself recalling something that Tina had previously mentioned. Something about a 'Grindelwald', or whatever that was.   
Whatever it was, it probably wasn't very friendly, if it had really killed his 'mom'. Ms Goldstein seemed to know a lot about him; about the past he couldn't remember, about the people. If only he could remember more. 

"Credence!" 

He turned his head slowly to the sound, and found that it was simply Tina again. He found himself smiling, and couldn't figure out why. It was unusual.   
Approaching, she straighten out his coat and gave a pleasant smile, running a hand over his head lightly. 

"Good luck, sweetheart. Although, I'm sure this won't be the last time I see you." 

Turning to Mister Graves, she gave a small nod. 

"Sir, take good care of him, okay? He's been through enough." 

"I will. I promise that." 

Credence knew, somehow, that he would.


	7. The House

Credence watched as Mister Percival Graves, key in hand, unlocked and pushed open the door ahead of them. Stepping aside, he allowed the young boy to follow, before closing the door after him. 

"Now, I just have to say," he heard his voice behind him as he headed through the entrance to, presumably, the front room. "It's not a lot, and it can get pretty lonely, but 'it's home', (as the saying goes)." 

It was a lot, though, that's what he didn't realise. In the front room, there was a small bookshelf in the corner with a chair, a small box with a screen near the front, with a larger chair. There was something small, grey and furry lying in a ball on the chair too.  
Stepping closer to the creature, Credence noted that it was indeed living, and felt somewhat scared of it. Percival chuckled as he removed his scarf and coat, placing them on a hanger near the entrance. 

"Oh, that's Catullus. Don't worry, he's friendly." 

Stepping over, he began to pet the grey object, and it at once moved, stretching it's body out with a small yawn. It looked to Credence, and so too did Mister Graves. A soft smile appeared in his eyes as he looked at the nervous boy next to him. Taking his much smaller hand in his own rather large one gently, he moved it towards the cat, running it over the soft fur on it's back. 

"Look. You can pet him, if you like. He won't hurt you." 

Soon, Credence nodded, and was petting Catullus just fine on his own. Meowing jovially, he rubbed his face against the palm of his hand, earning a soft giggle. 

"He's cute." 

Percival nodded, and continued into the open kitchen. Fetching the kettle, he placed it upon the hob of his oven, allowing it to brew as he removed mugs from the cupboard. Looking over his shoulder, he addressed Credence.

"You can sit down, child." 

Almost as soon as he did so, Catullus came over, placing himself promptly in his lap in a curled up way.  
Percival continued making tea, now and then referring back to how Credence had had his tea earlier when Goldie had come in, and making it the exact same way. Mister Graves was known for his superb memory, as well as his finding it necessary that all jobs were completed perfectly and on time.  
Bringing them over, he placed them on a small coffee table in between that of the couch and TV. He took a seat next to Credence, not before noting how much smaller and frail he appeared in comparison, and at this realisation he felt a sudden twang in his chest. 

Continuing to pet Catullus, Credence looked to Percival, and felt something he hadn't felt before. It was a certain heat, in a way. He felt as though his ears were burning up, and his cheeks. As though they were ablaze.  
Because it was, at this moment, that he realised how lucky he was. He'd been taken into a nice house, with a nice person to look after him, and he didn't even have to do anything. And, he had a cute little... Catullus resting in his lap. He could feel it's stomach going up and down as it breathed, too. It was happy.

"So, Credence." Percival cleared his throat, breaking the gaze as he turned to look at the cup of tea he was about to pick up. "Ms Goldstein informed me that you've been having problems with your memory. Remembering everything, that is." 

"I suppose." Credence stammered, running his finger over the rim of his own cup, but pulling it away when he got to warm. 

"Well... What do you remember?" 

"I remember Tina. She was nice to me. And, I remember you." 

"Hmm? I don't believe we ever met- oh. No, you must mean..." Placing his cup down, he pondered on how to explain. 

Things fell into a small silence. Then, Credence heard a strange noise, and it seemed to be coming from himself. He wondered what it was; he also wondered why he could remember certain things, but not others. It was all very unusual.  
Mister Graves' reaction to the sound was unusual, too. Hurriedly, he looked towards the clock, and seemed to smirk at himself. 

"Forgive me, child. I don't usually eat a lot myself in the day, but I suppose today deserves a special welcoming dinner. Let's go out." Announcing this, he stood, garbed his coat and scarf once more, and, (when they were both ready), they headed outside.


	8. Gargiulo's Restaurant

"This way." 

Following after the footsteps of both, Credence was lead over to a small table in a secluded corner by both Percival Graves and a sharply dressed man. Allowing them both to sit down comfortably, he handed two menus, and left them be with a polite nod. 

"I apologise for our seating," Percival laughed quietly as he glanced over the menu. "Usually you need to book in advance, and I don't really enjoy the spotlight." 

Credence looked at the menu himself, and noted something. He was able to read, and he understood some of the words. However, he didn't know what most of them were. He'd heard of some of the ingredients, such as tomatoes, (which he knew to be a vegetable), but other words seemed foreign.  
Mister Graves noted the confusion on Credence's face, and cleared his throat, earning his gaze. 

"Anything the matter, Credence?" 

"I, I don't know what to have." 

"Me neither." Percival chuckled, shaking his head lightly. "It's alright if you want to order multiple if you're unsure-" 

"No, sir." Credence noted the stammer in his voice, and found it very similar a reaction. "That costs money." 

"I'm well aware of that." Chuckling again, he placed the menu down on the linen table cloth, smiling at the boy in front of him. "I really don't mind."

Credence placed his menu down also, but kept his look down; glued to the earth, it seemed.  
With an almost solemn sigh, the man opposite him earned his gaze once again, this time with the soft tone he held in his words. 

"Child, do you know who I am? Why I took you in?" 

"No, sir." 

"My name is Percival Graves. I work at MACUSA, otherwise known as the Magical Congress of the United States of America. I live by myself after my wife divorced me and moved her and the kids back to Ireland. Even though I'm high up in my work, I dislike being the centre of attention and prefer doing work from home with Catallus. Maybe part of me took you in because of pity, but the real reason? I was lonely. I am lonely." 

Blinking, he shook his head, smiling back at Credence. 

"I want to help you, Mr Barebone. I want to help you remember everything, and find out who you are. If you help me feel less alone, I'll help you understand that you're not either." 

Mister Graves waited for some sort of response from the child, letting his gaze rest on him in a soft, and somber way. He didn't realise how much the next words would affect him, but they did. A lot, and he felt his heart leap. This was when he realised something...

"You're not alone, sir." 

Credence was his saviour. 

"I'm here."


	9. Home

Blinking as Percival flicked the light switch on to the bedroom, Credence allowed his eyes to adjust to the new sights around him. There wasn't actually a lot major in the room - just a few small chests, a table, another much larger table, and a set of doors - besides the obvious large bed. Overall, it felt just as isolated as Mister Graves had previously explained that he was.

"I'm afraid you'll have to stay here for now, until I can get you your own room." Stepping inside, Percival made sure the room was sufficient enough for him, neatening out the bedsheets. "That reminds me, I'm taking most of tomorrow off so that we can do just that. Go shopping for you, that is."

Nodding, he headed to the entrance of the doorway, turning around to face the boy again. Not 'boy' - technically he was a man, of eighteen years for that matter - but his frail body had a look of innocence to it which he couldn't get over. 

"Do you, have everything?" It was less a question to Credence, and more to Percival himself. "Bathroom's next door if you need it... Clothes... Hold on one sec." 

Credence stood by the bed watching as Mister Graves walked away. Turning, he glanced over the bedsheets, which were of a soft grey colour, with an odd pattern on it with which he didn't seem to put a finger to. But then, it's not like he could remember a lot recently. He couldn't even remember how he came to exist.   
He looked away from the sheets and back up to the doorframe as Percival strode back into the bedroom, neatened pyjamas cradled in his arms. Stretching out his arms towards him, he gestured to Credence to take them. That was when it happened. 

As their arms and hands came to meet each other, Credence felt a sharp twang at his heartstrings. Like something was telling him to run away, but at the same time - an even weirder thought - to get closer.  
Percival too seemed to linger there longer than was necessary, but soon stepped back, and towards the entrance once more. It was like they were bonded. As though a line was drawn from them both; a line that couldn't be erased. But then, they didn't need it too, did they? 

"Are you okay?" And still, he lingered. Hovering in the doorway.

"Yes, sir. Thank you." 

"That's quite alright, child- um... I'll let you go now. Good night." 

"Good-good night." 

"And, Credence?" When the door was almost closed to, he paused himself, giving one last glance at him. 

"Yes, sir?" 

With the sincerest of smiles, he looked softly at Credence, and couldn't help the way his eyelids fell in a gentle, relaxed manner. Speaking in a affectionate tone, he reassured his new house guest that he was, in fact, at home. 

"It's Percival." 

Closing the door, Credence was left with his thoughts, and the amiable, warming feeling which now radiated within him. He got dressed quickly, slipping under the covers, and continued to find as comfortable a position as he could.   
Still, if he knew of where his mind would take him that night, he may not have ever fallen asleep at all. Never.


	10. Graves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING : referred domestic abuse, suggested sexual acts

~Dream~

"Credence, have you found the child?" 

Grindelwald, dressed up in his Mister Graves' suit, stepped closer to the boy as he stood in an abandoned alleyway, held tilted down to the floor. From the way he was acting, he knew that his mother had beat him again. But first, before he could heal him, he needed his answer. He needed to find the Obscurus, to use it's destructive power. Wield it, and, in order to use it for his own will, manipulate the owner. Tell them that the person he wished dead had done something wrong; offensive, unlawful, whatever he had to say to get what he wanted.

If only Credence knew this - that he was going to heal him, that is - he might have answered faster. 

"I can't." He found himself staggering with his words, slurring them almost, trying to avoid eye contact, because the look he would gain would only be that of disappointment. 

Credence had appeared startled at first, when Grindelwald had first apparated over to him. Now, as the older man next to him checked the open street to make sure no one was looking, that same anxiousness kicked in. He wasn't sure what he'd do; part of him believed he could trust Mister Graves, whereas the other knew that he couldn't. Whatever he was about to do, he wanted it to be done in secret, and it wasn't the first secret the two had kept to themselves. 

Grindelwald, with his lips close enough for the boy to here, whispered in a lowly, yet gentle manner. His hand outstretched towards Credence's. 

"Show me." 

With no answer - except a small whimper, which was presumably one of hesitation - he took the smaller, scarred hand in his own much larger one. That wasn't to say he was cruel about it, no. In fact, he was patient as he could be, and made sure his grip wasn't too sharp. It didn't stop those small noises again emitting from the child's mouth, however. 

Turning the palm towards his own, he waved his hand over it, and soon the scars were almost faded, and the pain had gone. That was clear enough from the lack of noise, anyway.   
Sometimes, he felt bad for the lad. Empathised with him, even. But then, when he came back with no news of finding his Obscurus, this emotion merely turned into pity. He'd promised the boy that he'd become a wizard, but that wasn't very likely. Sure, his parents were magical, but he possessed no such abilities. He was a squib, nothing more. 

"My boy, the sooner we find the child, the sooner we can put that pain in the past, where it belongs." 

Still, he didn't deserve a beating every night, did he? Certainly not. There were other, less bloody ways of getting what he wanted. He wondered if he'd ever need to use them; Crucio, mostly. But then, he had him in the palm of his hand, didn't he? He was the only caring figure he had - besides that Ms Porpentina Goldstein, she was always intruding - and Credence needed someone to guide him. Who better than a worldwide criminal? 

There was something else he needed, though. He could see the trust and faith slipping away in the younger man's eyes as the days went by, and he had to keep him under his thumb. 

"I want you to have this, Credence." Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the necklace. "I would trust, very few with it." 

Slipping his arms around his neck, he did up the clasp. Moving his lips close to Credence's ear, he couldn't help how his tone turned into more of a seductive whisper as he repeated the previous line. 

"Very few." 

He slid his hands down slowly, traipsing over the small bit of skin that was showing on the boy's neck, as well as the necklace, of course. There was a slight hesitation of moving their faces apart, but when he did he admired how the sign of the Deathly Hallows now hung around him.   
There was something oddly beautiful about this new sight, which he couldn't put a finger to. Something ironic lingering. A member of Second Salem - a group of witch killers - with something hung around his neck. Grindelwald had to pull his thoughts away from the idea of him chained up. He could probably do it if he wanted to, though. Definitely could.

Placing his hands against the boy's face in a soft caress, he continued speaking.

"But you? You're different." 

His hands slid down again; that was enough comfort, back to what he wanted. 

"And when you find the child, touch this symbol and I will know, and I will come to you." A promise, stated clearly. I can give you everything.

"Do this," a whisper - soft, seductive, enough to persuade him - like a snake hypnotising it's prey. "And you will be among wizards, forever." 

It's still not enough. He's touchstarved; they both are. They deserve what little they both require.   
Grindelwald wrapped his arm around the child's neck, pulling their heads together in a warm sort of comfort. One that Credence longer for, and one that he hardly ever recieved. Only ever when he was with Mister Graves. It was worth the tasks he made him do, to be held in such a gentle way. If only he would pull him closer. Just for a moment or two. If only, he would take him away now, just as he promised to do so after he found the child.   
Alas, he had to do just that, and Grindelwald made sure to remind him. 

"The child is dying, Credence. Time is running out." 

That moment was soon all over. The hand slipped away as quickly as it had been placed there; Mister Graves had turned his back on him, and had aparated away once more. 

He was left to himself, alone in that alleyway. But, then, something else occurred. He knew what it was; he recalled it in the back of his mind, the part that was lost, and shooting his hand out, he pushed it all away, watching as it recoiled into darkness.

That was when he woke up. 

~End of Dream~


	11. Percival

"Credence, it's okay, breathe." 

Percival knelt down against the frame of the bed, holding the young man's shoulders as he woke up. His breathing was raggedy; the last part of his nightmare had unlocked his memories - at least of who he believed to be Mister Graves - and suddenly, at the realisation of living with such a man, his body had gone into a state of panic. 

"No, let go of me!" 

He struggled, pushing the man's arms away, but he didn't really have to. Percival naturally obliged, a look of calm on his face. Credence still had a panic-stricken look in his eyes as he pushed himself back, right to the headboard of the bed. As far as he could; he had to get away. 

"Credence-" 

"No! Stay away from me, I won't let you control me again." 

"I'm not him, Credence- Mister Barebone." 

Already, there was doubt in Credence's mind as to whether or not he really was the same man. First of all, when he had yelled at him to let go, he had done so straight away. Mister Graves never would've done that. He'd have kept pushing. Second, Mister Graves would never have called him Mister Barebone, and would definitely never have allowed him to address him in such an informal manner as 'Percival'.

"But you... you look just like him-" 

"I know, Credence. And, I can explain that. If you just give me a little time." 

Another thing. Mister Graves never explained things to him. Just told him what he wanted done, and he'd have to oblige every time. 

"Will you let me?" 

Credence nodded. Maybe, he should have been a little more sceptical, but there was something about the man opposite him. Something more than the small mannerisms he had which already were different to how he remembered. There was a calmness to him; an openness, full of honestly and morality which he hadn't seen in a long time. Only in Ms Goldstein, and her sister. In Mister Scamander, too, whom he now remembered.

He loosened the grip he had on the sheets, letting his arms fall gently. Maybe he was letting himself relax too much. Maybe this was his new plan; to act differently, to trick him again, but then if this was all an act, it was a good one. Credence didn't think he'd see so much honesty in his entire life as he did in Percival's current expression. 

"The man you thought you knew to be me, was not me at all. He used magic to look like me. You know magic, right? It was all an act. My name is Percival Graves, and I work at MACUSA. His name was Gellert Grindelwald, and he was a worldwide criminal. He used you to hunt down the Obscurus to use it's power for his own destruction." 

He paused, noticing that Credence still had a hint of fear buried in his expression, and wished to remove it. To reassure him that he was safe. 

"So, you're not really him?"

"No, Credence. I'm not him at all. Look at me now, and decide for yourself what you believe to be true." He did just that, taking in all of his features as he pronounced the next few words. "I'm not using you. I promise that."


	12. Magic

"Do you trust me, Credence?" 

"Yes. I do." 

If he hadn't have been so occupied with trying to reassure the young man opposite him that he wasn't the criminal he believed him to be, Percival may have mentioned what he had discovered moments before this dispute much sooner.   
Turning his head towards the direction of a chest of drawers, he began to speak once more. 

"Do you see that potted plant?" 

Splayed on the ground was a flower, roots barely touching the scattered soil. Shards of cement lay around them; sharks teeth. For some reason, even though it wasn't anywhere near where Credence had been sleeping, he felt somewhat guilty. As though he had been the one to break it. Although, that may of just been because he felt guilty for everything he did. Especially now, as the memories of Ma came rushing back to him. 

"Do you know how it broke?" 

He shook his head ever so slightly, swallowing down hard. There had been conversations like this before in his life, and they had only ever ended with one thing. Pain. 

"You broke it, Credence." 

But, then, if he really was responsible for breaking something, why did the man in front of him say it with such an expression of delight on his features. I mean, it wasn't that visible, but it was definitely there. Mostly in the tone of his voice. It was more delight than he'd shown before, other than when he'd wished him good night before. 

"I-I did?" 

"Yes, Credence. You did." 

"I'm-I'm sorry-" 

"No, don't apologise for it!" Shaking his head, side to side, a look of slight amusement and solemnity on his lips. "What you did was wonderful." 

Wonderful? How was breaking his property wonderful? It must have cost him money; for the pot, the plant, the soil. Money which he just wasted.   
Money! At the restaurant, he'd bought him so much - he'd taken him in, too - and, they were going to go buy him things today. This was all too much - 

"Do you not realise what you did?" 

"No... Sorry." 

"You don't need to apologise. It's alright." 

Percival shook his head once more, but there was now also a look of vague annoyance. 

"What you did, Mr Barebone; it's called magic."


	13. Walking

Conversation was made of very few words as they walked through the bustling streets, and Credence found himself having to rush his footsteps in order to keep up with his... whatever Mister Percival Graves was to him, at this point.   
He wasn't entirely sure where they were going; all he knew was that they were buying things. For him. As wonderful as it felt to have someone care enough to give him things, it was all too much in the end. So much money would be spent on him, and he could never show his gratitude for being treated so pleasantly by such a nice, new person. 

"This way."

The older man pushed his way past a group of elders dressed in grey suits, the same colour as their hair, and Credence did the same, making sure not to touch any of them as he went. Just because one man was nice, didn't mean that they all were. He, of all people, surely knew this by now.  
The younger man made a mental note at how the man in front of him strode with such purpose, while his own walk was similar to that of a rabbit wincing at every passing human. Or, a cat, even. Like Catullus. But, even he was much braver than himself. 

Wait, he'd touched a cat, hadn't he? Before - when his memories were all intact, which to him felt almost like another life - he'd been too afraid to be even within a metre of one, but he'd actually petted one. 

"Credence!" 

He broke away, finding his gaze locked with that of Mister- Percival's own. Usually, that tone of voice had only ever meant anger; anger at him, because he'd done something wrong.   
What Credence didn't notice was that he had started crying, and only now did he feel the tears as they fell down into his hands, which lay open beneath his chin. 

"What happened?" 

He went to go place his hand on the boy's cheek, but reeled his arm back before he even had the chance, regaining his slightly cold composure. 

"Are you alright?" 

"Yes, so-so sorry. I-" 

"It's alright, Credence. It's alright." 

Smiling at him, he gestured to the large building that lay ahead of them. 

"Let's head inside, now."


	14. Clothing

Another item of clothing was placed into Credence's cradled arms by Percival, as they continued winding their way through this section of the department store.   
When it had gotten to the point of almost too much to carry, he began to protest. 

"Sir-?" 

"Percival." 

"Percival, um, I really don't need all of this." 

"You need enough clothes for every season, every event, every condition of weather. No more out of you, unless it's because you prefer a different shade or material." 

He wasn't entirely sure as to what he meant by 'every event'. Were they to attend Church together? Percival didn't seem like the extremely religious type, and he didn't really want to be anywhere near something that reminded him so much of Ma. And, what was she to think, now? He was a witch himself.   
Percival, placing one more item in the younger man's arms, stopped for a moment to look upon him. Almost as once, Credence felt his cheeks blaze. 

"What? Have-have I done something wrong, sir?" 

"Not at all." 

Shaking his head, the older man began to walk again, and Credence followed, now a little more warily behind him.   
He stopped again at what appeared to be a small entryway, where he greeted a man. Allowing Mister Graves to pass, the boy stood still, not sure as to whether to follow after. A small 'this way' ushered him along.   
Walking down the short corridor, they arrived at a set of golden double doors, each rimmed with curved, slender patterns. Before Percival had even the time to touch the doors, they were opened by two men on the other side. They continued through. 

Once they were in the centre of the circular room, Percival ushered the men out in a friendly, yet efficient way. Now, it was just the two of them, and Credence took his time to look around at his new surroundings, ignoring the loud beating of his heart.   
It was very elegant, and in a way was quite similar to that of the settings in the newspaper office of which he'd visited in his past. There was a lot of gold, and a lot of books; stacks and stacks of them slotted in white enamal shelves. He really did feel as though he wasn't being treated. It was too much. 

Looking at the chalky colours around him, he was reminded of snow. For some reason, it led him to think back to words he had previously heard from his new... Percival? 'Every season..every condition of weather'.   
Before, he'd only ever had two day outfits, and one night outfit. The two were both exactly the same; he had no coat, and so had almost grown used to the bitter coldness of a shallow winter. 

"Credence?" 

"Hmm?" 

"Would you like some help, or can I go outside and find the rest?" 

What did 'the rest' mean? He didn't mean more clothes, surely. 

"I'll be alright. Thank you s- Percival." 

Mister Graves nodded, and left.


	15. Changing

Placing the neat bundle of clothes down on a golden patterned chair, Credence began to remove the clothes of which he had put on that morning.   
They were a medium gray colour; not too dark, but not too light. Although, they were a little big for him, being the borrowed clothes of Mister- Percival. 

He need to get that right, he had to keep correcting himself. Not 'sir', because he had been allowed to address him more personally, and certainly not 'Mister Graves'. He was already a million times different to that man. To that monster. 

Looking down at himself, Credence let out a small gasp. His skin was no longer marked with gashes and burns and scars. Instead, it was clear. It really was as though he'd been reborn. As if this was his new life.   
He placed his fingers to his stomach, and relished in the new feeling. It almost felt as though it was someone else he was touching, and even though he was so taken aback in the moment, something from his past snapped at him. Something Ma had said. He pulled his hand away, feeling ashamed of himself, and looked back to the clothes. 

After trying them all on, Credence discovered somethings that he had never before realised. A shade of blue fabric was much better suiting to him than the usual dark greys and blacks that he was so used to wearing. With the correct sized clothes, a belt was not entirely necessary, which he was thankful for. It only served as a painful reminder of his past.  
Lastly, there were clothes both warmer and cooler than what he previously had to wear, and so he now found himself understanding why different clothes were needed for different seasons. 

As he was about to gather the clothes up once more, there was a sharp knock on the door that startled him to a halt. He turned towards the door as it was opened by one of the men previously ushered outside. He peered his head in. 

"Is everything all right, sir?" 

Sir? He'd never been addressed in such a way before. Was this what it was like to be surrounded by the upper class? To have respect? If that was the reason for the sudden new title, he wished to forever have this. To have mutual respect with others. 

"Yes-yes. Um, I've finished." 

"Of course, sir." The helper rushed himself in, walking over to where the young man stood. "Which of these are the ones you wish to purchase?" 

Credence suddenly felt flustered; was he supposed to have sorted his preferences into piles? He'd done something wrong, again. Seems like old habits never cease to reappear. 

"Oh, I'm sorry. Let me just find the ones I like best. I'm sorry." 

"That's quite alright, sir." He smiled reassuring, but not just because it was his job. "Take all the time necessary."


	16. One Last Stop

"Credence!" 

Noticing the younger man's approach, Percival slipped his wallet away, turning his attention to the man following behind him. Taking the bundle of clothes from him, he thanked the help immediately, and had soon whisked them both away to the nearest till. 

"S-Percival," he quickly corrected himself, waiting for some sort of acceptance before he continued. "You really don't have to buy all of this, for me."

"What did I say?" In the gentlest way possible, he gave Credence a disapproving look. "No more." 

There was a clear sign of irritation somewhere, but he didn't appear annoyed at the boy himself. More at the way he was so submissive. The way in which he carried himself; he was shy, and overly kind. Graves had insisted to treat him, and didn't wish to take no for an answer.   
Once it was all paid for, the two left together. It had appeared that the lady of which had assisted them in making the purchases knew of magic herself, and had informed them both that they shouldn't need to carry them home. That they would be waiting for them when they got back. Something in that suggested that magic would be involved. 

"Are we-we going back to work now?" 

"No, Credence. We have one final stop." 

Soon, they both found themselves in an alleyway, Percival turning his head to look around him cautiously. Making a solid sort of eye contact with the younger man in front of him, he suddenly gained a serious aura. Sure, his demeanour was that of a confident businessman, but the way he was now was even more cryptic. 

"Do you trust me, Mr Barebone?" 

He gulped. Although this was not the Mister Graves he had grown to know, and although he had used a different title to address him, this was all too familiar a setting. A dark, stranded alleyway. A few leaflets dotted about the floor, (thankfully none of them advertising the Second Salem).   
Still, he knew his answer immediately. Of course he did.

"Yes." 

Percival nodded. Somewhat of a smile formed on his lips, before he regained his composure again, moving his arm out in front of them both. He bent it at the elbow, so that if Credence was to reach out, it would be easy to latch themselves together. 

"Good. Grab ahold of my arm." 

"What for?" 

"In order to travel to where we need to be, I'm afraid that we'll have to apparate. I'm not exactly sure how your body will react to it - I'm assuming it will be your first time apparting - and usually most people are very sick on the first go." 

"Will it- Will it hurt?" 

He asked this simply because he knew - somehow he just knew it - that Graves, this Mister Graves, wouldn't ever lie to him. 

"Possibly." 

"Okay." 

Credence reached out his hand, gripping ahold of the older man's arm, and soon the two had vanished from New York.


	17. Diagon Alley

It was the weirdest sensation; apparating.   
Credence felt as though he were flying, but at the same time solid ground felt just beneath his feet. As though he were merely hovering. He could also feel the body next to him - the arm, that is, that his hand remained clutched to - and this anchored him as well. 

There was a moment, while they were apparating, that he felt a twang of hesitation. He wasn't sure as to what it could be, but he knew that it came from Percival. That it was something emotional, not due to his magical capabilities. Oddly enough, he felt the same tug at his heartstrings as he knew that Graves felt too.   
Again, apparating was the weirdest sensation. 

When he at last properly felt solid ground touch with his feet, his knees buckled under the sudden pressure. He gripped onto the fabric of Percival's sleeve, and found that, instinctively, the older man's arm had gripped onto the younger's hip, holding him up, and preventing him from any possible injury. 

"Are you alright?" 

He hadn't let go yet; he needed to make sure he could handle standing before he let go again.

"Yes. Thank you." 

Standing himself up straight, he noticed a sudden change in the other man's expression. It was somewhat in awe of him, and he had never before earned that look. Yet, he still knew exactly what it meant somehow. He knew that it was because of something he'd done, also, he just wasn't exactly sure as to what that was. 

"What is it?" 

"Nothing. I just- I'm surprised, is all. You handled it extremely well." 

Percival smiled, and only now did Credence take in the new setting he was faced with. They were, seemingly, stood outside of a sort of restaurant. It didn't seem anywhere near as fancy as the café of which Graves had previously taken him to, though it didn't seem any less busy. In fact, it almost appeared even more so.   
There was a sign above the door, which Credence immediately assumed to be the name of the restaurant. 

'The Leaky Cauldron' 

"This way." 

Percival took the front, leading the younger man through the bustling inside of the building. There were a lot of odd sights to be seen inside, indeed. The people all wore prominent clothing, and there was something about the look of the food in the kitchen that didn't appear to be entirely human.   
Most to Credence's own personal shock, there were some women wearing pointed hats. He shuddered at the thought; witches. Those whom he hated, whom all of the Second Salem wished to burn. But, wasn't he himself now a witch? Or, was there another term for male magics to be referred to as? A warlock, perhaps? 

He was pulled away from this thoughts as the man in front of him came to a halt outside of the back of the building. A brick wall lay there, blocking the path, and Credence was almost stunned by the fact that they didn't turn and go back.   
Instead, removing a twig like item which he'd remembered seeing a number of times beforehand, (if not in a different shape), he tapped the bricks in a specific order, slipping the item away once more into a pocket inside his jacket. 

The wall appeared to fall into itself, pulling itself apart. It opened up to a street; a busy, colourful street that should only be described in one way. Magical.

Percival, upon seeing the sparkle in Credence's eye at the new sight, formed a small smile on his lips as he gestured openly to the path that lay ahead. 

"Welcome, Mr Barebone, to Diagon Alley."


	18. Ollivanders - Part I

"Who are all of these people?" 

Credence asked, bewildered as he stepped through the long, crooked street. There were a few, strangely dressed women and men walking in and out of the shops; they wore flowing, cloak-like clothes, and, if they had been wearing hats like those inside the restaurant, he would have assumed them to be witches.

"They're people with magic capabilities, like you and me. Witches and Wizards, alike." 

"Witches?" 

He placed his hand over his mouth as he blurted this out. It wasn't supposed to come out in such a tone of surprise, and even maybe offensive.  
At least now he knew what the male equivalent was; a wizard. Was he a wizard? 

"Yes. And wizards, like me." 

Percival had noticed the offence, and had intended to change the younger man's naive point of view on all things magical. He wanted to show him what good magic was capable of, and how it should be respected. As well as this, he wanted to be regarded as nothing less than human. He knew what No-maj's, and people raised by them, thought of them.  
Upon noticing the fact that Credence had somehow managed to offend the older man, he let his head drop down in shame. Graves had done nothing but good for him - so much that he never knew how to repay him - and he'd just disrespected him. He felt disgraced, of himself. 

"In here." 

The pair walked in silence until they reached a large, dark shop. Percival pushed open the door, holding only long enough for Credence to pass through after him. As he closed the door behind himself, he heard Graves' voice off towards the middle of the shop. 

"Ollivander?" 

Credence wasn't entirely sure what that meant, but from the way it was announced, it sounded as though he was calling a person. 

Only now did the boy allow himself to look around. The room was very dimly lit, but he could make out the front of the shop, and a faint outline of the rest, also. At the front, there was a till, a plant pot nearby, stacks of paper everywhere. He could tell that there was a door towards the end of the room, that possibly led to another, or outback.  
The most noticeable theme throughout the shop, however, was the rows and rows of shelves that stretched right to the back of the store. Reaching where the door was, even. On every shelf, there were stacks and stacks of small boxes, and only now did Credence realise that 'Ollivanders' sounded very similar indeed to the word 'wand'.

He'd heard of many magical items in his past, through the Second Salem network. All about the different supernatural conjurings, potions, necklaces and bracelets; all of the different charms. One thing he'd most definitely heard of was a magic wand. He'd seen many people use them, all though he preferred referring to them as 'twigs'. It made the whole 'magical' aspect less realistic, and, therefore, less frightening. It only ever reminded him of his past. 

Mister Graves had never referred to himself as a witch or a wizard, neither, and he'd never used a wand, only ever his hands. Thinking back, he was very secretive about most things. Credence should have known. 

"Ollivander! There you are!" 

"Greetings, Percy! Long time no see." 

Emerging now from the shadows, a ladder attached to the shelves swung towards the front of the store, and an older looking man hopped down of the steps, greeting Graves with a small handshake and a smile of warm affection. 

"How long has it been, since I gave the kids their own? Haven't been all the way through Ilvermorny already, have they?"

There was something pleasant about the somewhat sly smirk playing at Ollivander's lips, which Credence couldn't help but approve of. He was friendly and playful, but still was aware of overstepping boundaries, and made sure to pay his respects to even those younger than him. 

"No, well, they did half at Ilvermorny. They've actually been attending Hogwarts their last few years." 

"Ah, I see, well," there was still a smile on his lips, but there was also an aura of awkwardness and tension hanging above him now, as he turned his attention to the young boy stood towards the doorway, "Who might this be, then?" 

"This? This is Credence Barebone, and we've recently discovered his magical abilities. He requires a wand to be able to control it-" 

"Indeed, indeed. For, why else would he be here?" 

Regaining his sparkling attitude, the old man reclimbed the steps of the ladder, and resumed searching among the boxes.


	19. Ollivanders - Part II

Atop the ladder, the old man - whom Credence had recently learned his name was Ollivander - murmured soft words under his breath as he scoured through the rows and rows of boxes stacked on the shelves. Quickly grasping one of them, he hoped back down the stairs as fast as his legs would allow, heading over to the till. Placing it down, he took ahold of the lid and pulled it off, removing the object that lay inside. As he did so, he spoke aloud words that both Credence and Percival were able to hear. 

"Vine, dragon heartstring, pliable." 

Stepping around the till, he handed the wand out to Credence. Hesitantly, he took it between his thin fingers, not sure what to do with it. Ollivanders gestured to him, but still he didn't know what to do. 

"Give it a whirl, then." 

He chuckled an old, hearty chuckle, and soon Credence had done just that. Only, when he did just that, a stack of papers flew throughout the store, and immediately he placed back down near the box, frightened. 

"I'm sorry-sorry, I'll tidy it up-" 

"No need, dear boy, no need," giving a small, soft smile, Ollivander stepped back over to the ladder, and resumed his search with another small mutter. "I didn't think that would work." 

Credence used this time wisely, turning his attention towards Percival, to see what he thought on the matter. He only found him in a state of possible confusion; he seemed to be pondering something, with his hand underneath his chin, and his eyes drifting from the present. Feeling the younger man's gaze on him, however, seemed to pull him away, and he greeted the boy with his own look. Cheeks flushing pink, Credence pulled himself back to what Ollivander was doing. 

He soon stepped over, a new box in hand, and again he announced the features of the wand. 

"Hawthorn, unicorn hair, flexible." 

Credence again did what he was instructed, but this time nothing at all happened. Ollivander shook his head, burying himself into a deep thought. 

"Wrong again, I see. Hmm, perhaps-" 

His speech cut off short, as a small box on a hidden shelf flung out, landing on the ground. Quickly, he wandered over, and Credence could again hear his soft murmurs. 

"Really? You? Yes, I suppose that could work... Rosewood, Phoenix feather, inflexible." 

Walking back over, he removed it from the box - just like with the others but a little more carefully this time - and he handed it to the boy with cautious action.  
Taking it once more, Credence felt a sudden flash of warm covering him, and it felt like a comfort he'd been longing for his entire life. A soft yellow light enveloped him, and as he looked upon the faces of the elders stood with him, he noticed how pleased they both appeared.

The light eventually faded, (not the feeling, that remained), and he stood with his gazed fixed upon the object he had often gazed upon with fear. How could something that made him feel so happy be such an evil force? He could hardly believe the thought he had been for so long embedded with in his youth. 

"Well then, I suppose that's that." Making sure he had gained the younger's attention, he continued. "I don't suppose you'll be able to take school at such an age, but-" 

"I'm teaching him." 

Credence turned his head at Percival's sudden outburst; he had been quiet for such a long time, now, that it was almost sharp to the ear. But, then, it still came with the sense of a gentle promise. 

"You are? That's quite wonderful of you, Percy." Giving a small smile to the man, he turned back to Credence, a pleasant but serious look on his expression. "Make sure you take care of it, now. It chose you, after all. You must learn to respect it, as it is learning already to respect you." 

The younger man nodded with a stern surety, and looked towards the box. 

"Could I-I have that? I want to take good care of it." 

"Well, it's not the usual way to carry one, but okay." Handing the box to Credence, he smiled and saw them both off.


	20. Heading To Work

Before they had left through Credence's second experience of apparating, Graves had taken him into a book store titled 'Flourish and Blotts', and had made many purchases. He hadn't been sure as to why, until he recalled what the man had previously promised. 

'I'm teaching him.' 

Percival had also asked him if he wished to look around anywhere before they headed back. He said no, although it was mostly because he didn't want him to spend any more money on him. He'd already given so much to him, it would be rude to ask for more. But, there was a shop he had his eyes fixed on - a small candy stores called 'Honeydukes' that caught his attention - he was simply too polite to ask. 

Credence remembered seeing candy stores on the street of the department store, and recalled how he'd walked past them many times in the past with the Second Salemers. Many times, Modesty had longed to go inside, but Ma had always kept a warning gaze over them both. 

Now, as they headed to MACUSA once more, Credence carrying a stack of books with a small box on top, and the older man in front carrying a briefcase, he passed another sweet store. Only, after seeing that of the one in Diagon Alley, it's appeal was somewhat lack lustre. 

~

"Hello, Credence." 

The young man looked up at the soft voice which now spoke to him. It was Ms Queenie Goldstein, bringing through the daily food tray into the office. It appeared to be pastries, this time, and coffee. Perhaps it was different everyday, then? 

"Hello."

He stammered out shyly, but couldn't help but smile back at seeing the lady's own. She giggled softly, handing him a plate of pastries. 

"I got these today from Kowalski's bakery. You're bound to love them!" 

"Thank you." 

"You're welcome, sweetheart." 

She added with a light, friendly air, before heading over and placing the tray on Graves' desk, giving a soft smile. He simply nodded, and she left.  
As Credence took a small bite, and looked away from the book he was given to read, he heard Percival clear his throat, and looked up. 

"Do you- are you understanding it well enough?" 

"Hmm?" 

"The book." 

"Um, well, I-" 

"It's alright. There are plenty of terms in there of which No-maj's do not understand. If there are any words you are not acquainted with, just tell me." 

"Okay." 

Pausing for a while, Credence spoke again. 

"Um, sorry, but, how do-do you perform a *Lewmos*?" 

Hearing a faint chuckle, he felt flush come to his cheeks again, and tilted his head down in embarrassment. 

"If you'd like, I'll teach you it now? I need a break, anyway."


	21. Lumos

"Well, get the wand then." 

Percival chuckled, gesturing to the box with his own in hand. Credence quickly looked down to the pile of books on which it lay, and he carefully removed it from the casing. The only problem was, it wasn't exactly sure what to do with it. How to hold it, that is. And, how would this item, this 'twig', produce magic? He doubted he would be able to do anything at all, despite whatever abilities Graves had believed that he had seen. 

"Okay, now hold it like this."

Looking at Percival's example only flustered him more; Credence held it hesitantly, almost dropping it. He heard a slight tut of correction, and didn't notice how close they both were to one another until he felt the older man's breath against the back of his neck. A sudden chill crept over his body, and the warm hand over his own which attempted to correct his mistakes was enough to make his entire body flush a bright pink. 

"There." 

Only now did Percival himself seem to realise the same thing. He cleared his throat, stepping away. As Credence turned to face him, as he turned to look him in his eyes, he noticed a new expression. It was fearful.

"Now then, what next?" 

As he turned his head to think, Credence noticed how the fear was growing, and it was almost as though he was trying to combat it. As if he was terrified, but he didn't want to let him see. 

"Perhaps I should demonstrate it?" 

It was a question to himself, which was answered by a nod. He turned back to face him, and a strike of fear was removed as he blinked. His cold exterior returned. 

"Watch me, okay?" 

With another nodded response, he continued his demonstration. Doing a specific movement, he announced the word 'lumos' aloud, and a bright light lit up the room even more by the small lamp on the desk.  
Whispering another word which Credence couldn't quite catch, the light went out again. 

"Did you get that? The movement is like this." 

He demonstrated it again, and then gestured to the younger man in front of him to do the same. Copying his action, he looked up for approval. 

"Like this?" 

"Mm... Now, do it again, but pronounce Lumos as you do so." 

Doing just that, Credence noticed how, unlike with Percival, nothing happened. His hand dropped down slightly, and he dared not look up to his elder. 

"Again." The boy glanced up, and Percival nodded. "You faltered. Your heart wasn't in it. Again." 

Credence took a sharp breath in, making his second attempt. Still, nothing. 

"Something's bothering you. Stopping you from doing it. Tell me, or clear it out of your mind some other way." 

"I'm... I'm fine... I-I just, I don't think I'm capable-" 

"You are. I saw with my own eyes, and I know that you are." Noticing the hesitation still there, he continued. "You don't have to use magic if you don't wish to, Credence. That's not the point of this. The point is to show you what you're missing. The wizard part of you that you keep buried deep down. You need to let it free." His gaze was full of reassurance. "Again." 

And, Credence did it again. The exact same way. Except, this time, he thought about his past. He thought about everyone who had ever been nice to him, and how badly he wanted to pay the kindness forward. He thought about everyone that had ever hurt him, and how badly he had wanted to escape. 

A bright light flickered at the end of the wand, and he blinked in disbelief. He'd done it. 

Then, he thought about everyone he'd hurt. All because he couldn't control that, thing, inside of him. Whatever it was, he knew it was gone, or suppressed now, but the idea of causing more pain sent a shockwave of fear throughout his body. His wrist made a quick, snapping movement, the wand dropped onto the floor, and he felt himself falling backwards.


	22. Helped Up

Blinking through blurred vision, Credence looked around him. A few steps in front of him, on the floor, lay the wand of which he had just dropped. Of what had caused him to fall; of what had made his vision blur. 

"Credence?" 

Finally making note of the legs he was propped up on, he turned to face Percival. His face was a picture of worry, all sign of his slightly cold exterior replaced with a soft, caring nature. 

"Are you alright?" 

"Yes. Sorry." 

They were the only two words he could get out past the permanent lump in his throat. Although there was no mirror, Credence could tell, from sheer feeling, that his cheeks were blazing red as he looked at the older man before him whom had stopped him from falling. This person who cared about him, enough to make sure that he didn't injure himself. That he never got hurt.   
The heat on the tips of his ears and his neck increased as Percival lifted his large, strong hand up. He ran his thumb across Credence's upper lip, wiping away blood which had began to ooze from his nose. 

"I think, that's enough for today. You almost broke your wrist." 

Removing a handkerchief from his suit pocket, he quickly cleaned the younger man up, before putting it down and inspecting his wrist.

"I'm surprised that you didn't, in all honesty. What on earth were you thinking about?" 

Credence didn't answer, but it didn't seem as though Graves actually required one. As he gestured to move, he stood them both up, making sure that he was able to stand on his own. He could, of course. It wasn't that bad. 

"Thank you. I'm sorry." 

"It's fine, Credence." 

Bending down, he picked up the boy's wand, placing it away in its box once more. Once the lid was on tight, he handed it back over, and sighed in an apologetic manner. 

"I need to get back to work, now. I suppose training shall have to wait for tomorrow." 

Slumping back down into his office chair and getting back to his paperwork, Percival continued to glance over at Credence for the rest of the day. He wasn't sure as to why he couldn't keep his eyes away. A mixture of worry, shame, and empathy, mostly.   
Worry, that he would hurt himself again. Shame, that he hadn't even manage to teach him the simplest of charms. Empathy, because there must have been a reason for what had just occurred. There must have been some negative memory triggered within him that did this. 

Credence continued his reading.


	23. Evening

That afternoon, before they had headed back home - home, what a curious thing to say and feel - Percival had packed up multiple documents into his briefcase, of which he had informed Credence he would have to do that night.  
Now, as they sat together on the couch, sheets of paper spread across the entirety of the coffee table, Graves let out another small sigh, rubbing his hand over his face. He muttered something about 'Seraphina' under his breath, but the younger man had no idea as to what this actually meant. 

The book of which he was currently reading - something or other about charms, he'd recently turned to the page on a spell called 'Incendio' - had grown heavy in his hands, and so he rested it now against his kneecaps, hoping that the older man sat next to him wouldn't mind the way he was seated. He didn't. In fact, he probably hadn't even noticed. He was too absorbed in his work to notice. 

With another sigh, Percival complained again. He threw himself back on the couch, closing his eyes tightly. When he once again opened them, he turned his head slightly to Credence, looking upon him as if he had forgotten he was there altogether.  
Noticing how the young man was sat, he smiled lightly, looking over his shoulder as to what page he was on. 

"You know, I am willing to teach you still, Mr Barebone. It may just take a while longer." 

Now, he looked upon Credence's features, as though it was the first time he was ever looking at him at all. He hadn't turned to face the older man, an instead his eyes seemed to be focused on the text in front of him.  
Although his eyelids were drooping slowly. He shook his head lightly, eyes widening once more, but he lifted his hand up to his mouth as he let a small yawn pass through his lips. 

Graves shook his own head, shaking away any thoughts of him being 'cute'. Technically, he had adopted him, hadn't he? There was no idea as to what Credence wanted from this relationship; did he want friendship, a family, or something else? But still, he couldn't deny that he was cute. He wasn't sure in which way, he just was. 

"If you're tired, you can go to bed at any time you wish. You've been through a lot today, after all." 

Credence shook his head, despite his very obvious fatigue. Turning to Percival, he pondered a while, thinking about how to phrase what he wanted to say. He usually did so. He liked making sure he knew what to say to people. Supposedly, it's because if he practiced it in his head, he may stammer less. That really wasn't the case, at all. Simply wishful thinking. 

"Um, do you mind if I read a different book? I'd like to know what more there is, to this world, I mean." 

"Of course. Go ahead." 

"Thank you." 

Closing the one in his lap gently, he placed it back onto the pile, but looked through the others to find a new one. They all had the strangest of titles. At least, what was the strangest of titles to someone who had been raised by, a No-Maj?  
Among the pile were titles such as 'The Official Guide to the Quidditch World Cup', 'One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi', 'Magical Drafts and Potions', and the one he had just put down, all on Charms, which Credence had learned was the real term used for spells. 

One of the very last books in the pile was called 'The Tales of Beedle the Bard'. On the cover was a seemingly old man, and Credence couldn't help but feeling like this one was less factual and more likely fiction. He ran his fingers across the cover gently, taking everything all in once more. All he was able to read in his past life was Second Salem pamphlets, and basically anything anti-witches. Now, he was able to read about an entire new world. It was inspiring. 

Scowling once more at his work, Graves turned to face Credence, noticing how he slid his hands over the cover of a small book. 

"That? That one was just something I picked up in case you wanted to read it. I bought another novel, if you'd rather read that?" 

Stretching across the younger man next to him to where the pile of books lay on the nearby chair, Percival sauntered through them all, picking one up at last. He sat back up straight, placing the book into the boy's small hands. Such slender fingers. He was so gentle with everything he approached. So slender. Did he ever eat? 

Credence read over the title; 'The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes'. 

"I read that once two years ago. It's good. I think you'd like it." 

"Thank you. Very much."


	24. Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING : Sexual content, non-con

~Dream~

Everything's dark. 

I'm scared. 

"Good boy, Credence." 

Please stop. 

I don't want this. 

"What would your Mother think? Such a dirty whore mouth." 

Don't make me do this. 

Please. 

You always tell me you care.

So why are you doing this? 

Stop. 

"More, Credence. That's it." 

No. 

No! 

I don't want this anymore.

Stop! 

"Yes..." 

Ouch. 

You're hurting me.

I can't breathe.

Please stop. 

"Well done, Credence. Well done." 

I can see now. 

It's lighter. 

My mouth tastes like sin. 

I wake up.

~Dream over~


	25. Morning

Panicking, Credence found his leg was tangled up somehow, and tried his best to wriggle free. Past the mist in his eyes, he noticed that the thing around his leg was grey, and as he adjusted to the morning glow, he realised it was a blanket. His heartbeat now returned to a steady pace. 

Breathing in the air, he realised with delight the smell of food was wafting from the kitchen, and he sat up, eager to have a look at whatever it was. He hardly ever ate breakfast, but this would be the second day in a row he would have a proper one! No more gruel, or frankly nothing at all. He had had tea and toast yesterday, but this smelled different. This smelled like a new experience altogether. 

Hearing movement in the front room, Percival, who was busy cooking, turned to face the younger man. He took in the look of happiness and curiousness on his features, and couldn't help but smile.  
'Why must he be grateful for even the littlest of things? It's almost too much to bear.' 

"Morning, Mr Barebone, I'm sorry to disturb." 

"No, it's fine." 

Credence insisted, shaking his head. He looked down at the blanket that covered him, and realised that he hadn't gone to bed. Lying on the coffee table, along with a bunch of worksheets, was the copy of 'The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes'. He must have fallen asleep reading it, but that didn't explain the blanket. How did it get there? 

"S-Percival, how did this get here?" 

"How did what get there?" 

Although he clearly understood what the boy was referring to, he shook his head with a small smile, refusing to answer. 

Plating breakfast, Percival walked over with the plates in hand, placing them down on the table. He waved his wand after, and the cups shortly followed, placing themselves neatly down. 

"Dig in." 

Graves said, although he himself already had. Credence simply stared at the contents, in a wonderful fashion. 

"Is this, bacon?" 

Percival slowed his pace, dropping his cutlery a little as he turned to face him. 

"Yes." 

"What's the other thing?" 

"A poached egg." 

"Really?" 

Percival nodded, now very confused. Where had this kid been living?  
Credence clasped his hands together before him, a pleasant smile on his lips. 

"Thank you for this meal." 

Unclasping his hands, he picked up the knife and fork, but realised that he had no idea of how to use them. He had only ever used a spoon, and if not a spoon, his hands.  
Percival noticed Credence still hadn't began eating, and turned to him once more. 

"Is everything alright? If you're not hungry, you don't have to eat." 

"No, I just..." embarrassed, he tilted his head down, "I don't know how to use these." 

Oh...That made sense. 

"Just watch how I do it, then." 

Credence did just that, and soon was using them as though he always had been.


	26. Seraphina

A few days later, Credence still hadn't learnt a single spell. He found that whenever Percival offered another attempt at Lumos, his heart rate sped up rapidly, almost to the point where he couldn't breathe, and so they both refrained. 

As today was only a half day for Graves, he had suggested that they go to lunch after he had finished up his work for the day. Still, he would have to do some from home, but at least he could be in comfort.  
Even though it was a fact that they wouldn't be at MACUSA for long, Credence didn't expect them to leave as soon as they did. 

Ms Porpentina Goldstein had burst through the door, her hair standing up almost in a flustered manner, the usual parallel curls disrupted. Percival looked up; there was an appearance of shock and irritation on his expression.

"Tina?! You almost broke the door off!" 

Ms Goldstein, however, wasn't listening. She had immediately turned her eyes to Credence, and he himself was frightened at the look she gave him. They were fearful eyes, the kind that made him think back to Modesty. All of the people he'd hurt.  
What he didn't realise was that her fear was the fear for his safety. It was a motherly fear.

"Why is he here?" 

Her direction was placed back onto Graves, her voice quivering with a tense panic. 

"What? There's no rules against it-" 

"Percival!" She snapped, before composing herself a little more. "Are you forgetting something?" 

Graves looked at her, dead in the face, uttering no response. Instead, he gave a look that suggested he was waiting for her to finish her line of thought. As if he saw no issue with Credence's presence. 

"Madam Mayor! She'll-" 

She didn't even have to finish. Percival's body shook slightly, and he turned to face the younger man. Stepping over, he looked him over, making sure he wasn't on edge because of this new happening. 

"Credence, you need to come with me-" 

"Sir, I can take him, it's fine-" 

"He's coming with me, Tina." 

Waving his wand, all of his work piled into his briefcase. The lid closed down, locked shut, and brought itself over into his hand. As if by instinct, Percival took ahold of the younger's hand, and started leading him through the busying corridors of MACUSA.  
Soon they were outside, and Graves, having pulled them quickly into an abandoned alleyway, had apparated back to his apartment.


	27. Happiness

Credence felt himself stumbling as they arrived back in their apartment - their - but the grip on his hand held him up. In fact, the hand wasn't pulled away for a long while. Even when he placed his briefcase down on the table, and turned to head towards the kitchen. He never let go. Not until Credence cleared his throat. He wasn't sure as to why he did it; he was sure that he didn't want him to let go, but for some reason, when he felt the grip of his large hands, the strong, muscular fingers, his nerves kicked in, and he felt the need to break away. Or, the need for something else entirely. 

"Sorry." 

Moving his hand away, Percival looked upon Credence as though he was irritated with himself. As though he almost hated himself for something he'd done, or something he hadn't done. 

"I, apologise, Credence. I didn't think..." he trailed off, his glance moving down to a bruise that welled on the younger man's wrist. "When did you-" 

"I don't know. I woke up with it." 

Pulling his sleeve up to cover it, Credence looked down, as was the result of his usual posture. Startled, he found a hand underneath his chin, and it lifted his gaze up slowly to Percival's own. Something about the look his eyes made him swallow down hard, the lump in his throat evident. 

"Promise me." 

"Pard-Pardon, sir?" 

"Promise me," there was a twinge of sadness from the title of 'sir', but he remained focused. "Promise me that you woke up with it. If someone hurt you- You'll tell me, won't you? You'll let me know if someone did it?" 

Was this what it was like, to have someone care about you? About your wellbeing? Somehow, it didn't feel like family - because the Goldstein's felt like family - but there was definitely something there. A bond, a connection. There was something he hadn't noticed before. Well, maybe he had, but he didn't properly notice it until now. Didn't take it in.   
Credence nodded his head slightly, not for one second taking his eyes away from the older man's own. 

Only now did he really notice his eyes, too. They were soft, and dark; rounded and warm. Something about them. They must be magic, mustn't they? They capture things - conceal them, relish in them - emotions, light, things just as bright.   
They were very different than Ma's, that was for sure. Her's were a cold, icy blue, and held nothing but heartlessness. Sometimes, a blinding anger. Credence wasn't sure she ever had loved him, or anyone else. How could someone like her have ever felt this. This happiness. This care. 

"I promise." 

Percival hummed out a sigh of relief.


	28. Modesty

They'd gone to lunch that day - as promised, a new restaurant near to Gargiulo's - and yet again Percival had bought more than just a couple of dishes, wishing Credence to try as much as he wished. Of course, he'd practically had to force an answer out of him as to what he wanted, but eventually, (after much prying), he had won him over. 

Now, as the evening drawled on, Graves worked quickly through paperwork, file after file, as Credence read beside him. The younger noticed how he wasn't hearing as many negative comments this night about the work, so it must not have been as tedious a task as before. Or, that he was simply just trying to get everything done to relax. 

Did he ever relax? 

Hearing Percival yawn quietly to himself, he quickly glanced at him, before focusing back on the book. He'd been working through it at quite a surprising pace, considering the lack of education he had had. He supposed it was mainly due to how interesting it was. All of the characters were equally intriguing, and he found himself lot among the plot. 

Graves yawned again, and Credence looked at him again. This time, when he glanced back at his book, he also looked over at the older man's hand - the one that had held his own. His cheeks heated up, and he forced himself to look back at the page.   
However, he found that he couldn't bring himself to read any. He made a mental note of the page number, closing the book and settling it down in the pile. Percival turned to him. 

"You alright? If you wish to head in for the night, that's quite alright with me." 

The younger man shook his head. It wasn't fatigue that bothered him, in fact he didn't feel tired at all. There was something he had remembered, something he'd thought of earlier, which he hopelessly tried to think of again. It was something important in his heart, and he had to remember what it was. Otherwise, there was a possibility that he wouldn't get to sleep that night. 

Modesty.

Percival, who hadn't taken his eyes off Credence, noticed the boy's sudden epiphany, and looked on in curiosity. 

"What is it? Did you perhaps leave something at the office? Or, at the restaurant? I'd noticed before; you've had this look of forgetfulness on your features all evening." 

"It's my sister, Modesty." 

Now, as he said this aloud, the panic kicked in. Really kicked in. 

"Modesty?" 

"Yes. She was sweet, and kind, and always getting herself into little troubles, but she was my sister. She is my sister! But, I don't know where she is-" 

"It's alright, Credence. Slow down." He shushed him, calming his nerves. "If you'd like, I'll contact Tina now? She knows a lot more of this event than I've been made aware. I'm sure she can help." 

"Yes, please. Thank you." 

"You're welcome." 

Scribbling something quickly down onto a scrap piece of paper, Graves quickly folded it, gave it a small tap of the wand, and it flung itself out of the window.


	29. Finding You

Credence blinked in the morning light brushing past the curtains, adjusting himself to reality. It was a lot more pleasant than his nightmares.  
As he did adjust, he felt the large, gentle hand resting on his shoulder, and, although the warmth of the bed had brought colour to his cheeks, so too did this. 

"Morning," removing his hand, he gave a sincere smile. "I have news from Tina. She says that she'll meet up with you this morning to help you find your sister - Modesty, if I recall correctly - while I go to work." 

"Thank you-" 

"Think nothing of it, Credence. Now," he stood up from where he was kneeling, and gestured to the door. "Time for some breakfast. What do you feel like?" 

"Um, I..." 

"Oh, right. Well, how about I make you an omelette?" 

"Are they good?" 

"Delicious. Promise." Heading to the door, he paused and turned back to face him. "It will most likely be done in fifteen, so, if that's enough time to get dressed...?" 

"Yes. Thank you." 

"You're welcome." 

Graves pulled the door closed behind him, and Credence went over to his clothes' drawer. He had one of those now. He had multiple items of clothing, and a drawer to put them in. He used to tell himself that Ma gave him what she could, but now he knew that that just wasn't true. In fact, she gave him more than what she actually cared to give. 

He picked out clothes he had been dying to wear since he had got them; not a boring faded grey shirt, but instead a beautiful blue jacket, with a white shirt, black trousers, and a light blue tie. If he was really going to go out in public as himself, now that he was able to be just that, he was going to go in the style he loved. 

Stepping outside his bedroom, he closed the door softly behind him, and noticed that Percival was stood in the kitchen. About to head over, he stopped in his tracks as the older man called out to him over his shoulder. 

"Take a seat, if you wish, Mr Barebone. It's almost ready." 

Nodding his head at no one, the younger man took a seat on the couch, and glanced down at his hands. For some reason, he suddenly felt nervous. After all, he'd never been in a colour that wasn't a shade of black or grey, and now he was wearing blue. Blue, of all things! 

"Here it is. Sorry, I forgot to ask if you wanted-" 

Percival trailed off, stopping to look at Credence. He cleared his throat, smiling, and placed the plates down on the table. Straightening himself out, he began to speak once more. 

"What drink would you like? Tea, as usual? I have other things..."

"Whatever is the most convenient for you. I really don't have a preference." 

"Well, I might have some coffee, if you'd like to try it? It's not to everyone's tastebuds, but-" 

"I'd love to try it." 

Graves nodded, lifting up his wand, and waving it once quickly. The coffee maker became animated, and Percival sat down next to Credence, gesturing for him to start whenever he wished. 

"Dig in." 

As he took a bite, Percival found himself becoming anxious. He watched on for Credence's reaction, but still didn't know what he thought. So, he attempted to explain himself.

"I don't often cook for people, you see. I'm sorry if it's, not very good. I know I promised." 

"It's delicious, sir." 

"Percival. Please. I mean, if it bothers you to call me by my Christian name, then-"

"Not at all. I'm just, used to addressing people with titles. I'm sorry if it makes you feel uncomfortable." 

"Whatever you can manage, is enough for me."


	30. Missing In Action - Part I

When Credence stepped outside that morning, it was only raining lightly, but now it was beating at a much quicker rate. If it were only slower, it would have matched the pulse of his heart as soon as he spotted Ms Goldstein.  
Standing at the end of the street, Tina smiled warmly at Credence, calling him over. 

"Morning, Credence. I figured we could check out the Church first, and then wherever you last remember seeing her." 

He nodded, and soon they were already entering the Second Salem. Almost at once, the young man felt a chill crawl over his body, and he decided, in order to take his mind off of things, he'd make conversation while they searched. 

"I'm sorry, that-that you had to take time off of work for this." 

"Oh, no, don't worry about that," she waved her hand, dismissing his guilt. "Mister Graves promised he'd take care of my work for today." 

Great. This wasn't making him feel better at all. In fact, now he felt worse. Not only was he pulling her away from work, but he was forcing more work onto his, carer? He still was unsure as to what he really was to him. 

"How is he treating you, then? Graves, I mean? Are you doing well there?" 

"Oh, yes. He's- It's wonderful." 

He stumbled for a moment, and his heart stammered. Why was he always getting red in the face when it came to Percival? It really didn't help his stutter at all. In fact, he was so taken aback by the thought of him, he didn't even realise that they were leaving until his foot was out of the door. 

"So, where else would you like to look?" 

"Well, we could-" 

He stopped, his mind leading back to him. The false Graves; the Graves that forced him to- 

"There's an apartment. It's where Modesty grew up. It's where I last saw her."


	31. Missing In Action - Part II

All I want to do is escape. Find you, and leave. This place- it hurts too much to be here. It reminds me of too much. Too many emotions. Betrayal, anger, a never ending misery. 

'You're a squib, Credence.' 

Saying those words to me, that was when I lost control. I heard them, latched onto them, and could not let go of them. I wanted them to die, to not exist anymore, not in that order, and not aimed at me. I wanted them to die, that's why I lost control.

I didn't want him to die, despite everything he did to me. I didn't even want that man at the office to die, maybe just get a little hurt. The only person I wanted to die was Ma. But, in the process, I hurt somebody else. Somebody I loved; I killed her, and scared away the other. My sisters. Bring them back to me. 

If I believed that there was someone looking over me, looking out for me now, I'd pray to them. Ask them to bring you back, Chastity, and to help me find you, Modesty. 

"Modesty?" 

Ms Goldstein calls out through the apartment, and I'm able to hear, despite her voice being low and soft. I never want her to die, not ever. She's a beautiful soul, just like her sister. Just like my sister. You, Modesty. And, Percival. He's a little cold on the outside, sure, but I think that's because he's been hurt before. Just like me. 

Oh, where are you, Modesty? Please, come back to me. I miss you, that little innocent gleam in your eyes. Please. Let me look at you again. Let me believe that my past was not all bad. Because, right now, in this place, that's all I can feel. I can feel him. It's like he's stood behind me, sneering at me. Or above, making me-

"Credence?"

"S-sorry." 

Credence jumps back, his reaction to feeling a hand on his shoulder. Despite it's gentleness, his mind only went to one person. But, it was only Ms Porpentina, trying to gain his attention, which had drifted elsewhere. She looked at him with a saddened expression. 

"I don't think she's here, Credence. But!, I'm going to find her for you, I promise. I'll, get Graves to find out some documents for me, and..." 

"It's okay." 

Credence reassured, noticing how she had trailed off with a look. A look that told him it would be nearly impossible to find any such documents on his sister at MACUSA. He shook his head slightly, smiling. 

"Thank you, for your help today. You really didn't have to take the time away from work to do this, but I appreciate it, either way." 

"You're welcome, Credence. I really will look more into it." 

"Thank you." 

Tina nodded, looking towards the stairs. 

"Would you like to go, now? I don't suppose this place brings you any happiness, does it?" 

"Alright, let's go."


	32. Credence

Percival glanced at him as he continued his reading. He seemed enthralled with the book of which he had been gifted, and, if he wasn't, the older man may have spoken much sooner. Instead, he waited until he had turned to a new page, hoping that would be a good stopping point for him. He wasn't exactly the quickest of readers, which was probably due to a lack of a proper education. But then, that wasn't his fault, was it now? It was that damned woman's. 

"Credence?" 

The young man must have had the same thought, as he had made a mental note and placed the book down on the neighbouring chair, turning to face Graves. 

"Yes?" 

He was stammering again, which was usual of him, but still, he had no reason to be frightened. Not anymore. 

"I heard that you, you couldn't find her. Your sister, Modesty." 

"No." 

Percival looked down, saddened, and disappointed in himself. He'd promised he'd help. Empty promises. 

"I'm, I'm sorry, Credence." 

"It's alright. I'm not going to give up on her, because I know she's still alive." 

"You do?"

"Yes. I can feel it. 

"Well, I'm not giving up either. I promise, I'm going to find as many files as I can, and I'm going to help you find her." 

"Percival-" 

Credence stopped himself. He'd said it. He'd said Percival, and really meant it. Really felt like they were there. As though he was an equal. Which, he supposed he really was, now.   
What he didn't notice was how Graves' cheeks had turned a light pink. Though, it was faint, and difficult for most to see. 

"You don't have to." 

Much to Credence's own surprise, Percival emitted a very small, soft laugh, the colour in his face only deepening. He shook his head, smiling at the man in front of him with the sincerity of a thousand starlights. 

"You are, truly..." 

Smiling to himself, Graves shook his head again, blinking away. 

"Anyway, I guess we need a little food, hm? It's getting a little late, now, isn't it?" 

He stood up, heading into the kitchen.   
Credence never did find out what it was that his elder wanted to say. Neither did Percival.


	33. Frightened

Awoken from a nightmare once more, Credence sat up in bed, his whole body glazed in a nervous sweat. This time, however, the young man noticed how it was still dark out. Usually he needn't worry about going back to sleep, because it was morning, and Percival would be making him a delicious breakfast, and that would always make him feel better again and forget all the pain for the moment. But now, what could he do? 

He wasn't very well going to go back to sleep, but it wasn't as though he could sit there all night. Maybe, he'd be able to go into the living room, sit and read with Catullus. Maybe...

Credence slipped out of bed, treading lightly across the floor into the front room. If he were still living in the Church with Ma, he never would have done anything so sneaky. But, he lives with Percival now. Somehow, that was enough to know that he wouldn't be punished if he got caught. In fact, Graves was that kind a man he'd probably ask him if he was alright. The younger man could only imagine being showed so much love. 

Once he was sat down on the couch, he was startled as Catullus jumped up and lay down next to him, purring loudly. A twinkle formed in Credence's eyes as he smiled, petting him gently. 

"Hello." 

Catullus meowed as Credence turned to look at the other chair, his book - it was actually his - sat on the top. He was really enjoying it, finding both the characters and stories compelling and intriguing. But, as much as he wanted to continue reading it that night, he realised that he wouldn't be able to. Turning on the lights could wake up Percival, and he didn't want to do that. Just because he couldn't sleep, didn't mean that Graves shouldn't either. 

"What do you think I should do, Mister Catullus?" 

As if answering his question, the spry kitten hopped into his lap, warming him up and filling him with a sense of calm. 

"Do you want me to sleep?" 

The cat meowed pleasantly, and Credence nodded. 

"Thank you. I'm sure, with you watching over me, I'll be alright."

And, he was alright. He had no nightmare that night. In fact, he dreamed of nothing.


	34. Blanket

Tossing his head to the side, a sleepless Percival took note of the sound of a voice which had emitted from the front room. At first, he had thought that it was simply just Catullus meowing and causing mischief, but when he listened properly, he knew that he was wrong. It was clearly Credence's soft, shaking voice, whispering quietly in the night. 

After a moment, the talking was gone, and a curious Graves got up out of bed and exited out of his bedroom. On the couch, he was greeted with one of the purest sights he had ever known, and immediately he felt a sharp pain in his chest. 

Credence, his head tilted slightly and eyes closed, was sleeping soundly, Catullus happily curled up in his lap. Blinking slowly, Percival took in the view, before smiling softly. 

"You're so beautiful." 

Shaking his head - but not removing his smile - he headed over to the kitchen, getting a glass of water. He looked out of the window, gazing at the stars, but realising that the truely beautiful sight lay inside, he turned back. 

"If only..." 

He trailed off, and this time his smile faded too. Placing the glass down, he walked back towards the front room, where he stopped one last time. Turning towards the other seat, he took up the blanket, laying it gently over Credence's side, keeping both him and Catullus safe and warm. 

Shaking his head yet again, he hovered. 

"I told myself I wouldn't do this." He whispered quietly, placing a soft kiss on Credence's temple. 

Stepping back, he turned away for good, and headed back into his room, and Credence slept more soundly than he ever had before.


End file.
